Experience in itself wasn’t enough. The diary was my defense against waking up at the end of my life and realizing I’d missed it.

Chair or no chair: a binary relation. But the vicissitudes of moving the body around are infinite. You never know what a person in a chair can do.

The best thing about time passing is the privilege of running out of it, of watching the wave of mortality break over me and everyone I know.

The more you talk about something, the less accurate it gets.

My existence shrank from an arrow of light pointing into the future forever to a speck of light that was the present moment. I got better at living in that point of light, making the world into that point. I paid close attention to it. I loved it very much.

Around you move many seas. It is impossible not to drown a little.

I don't write toward a genre, and I try not to make claim to a genre after a book is published. That said, The Guardians isn't poetry. It's prose.